I just got into a fight with a door to door salesman. You know the type- very slick, has a memorized spiel that would put any used car salesman to shame, and cannot be deterred.
Normally, I do not answer the door to these types, as I would rather ignore them than be outright rude. And usually, outright rude is the only thing that gets them off the doorstep. Tonight was no exception.
Being blessed with 5 kids and a candy stand, I am blessed with 5 children who run to answer the door. So, I am also blessed to talk to all and sundry, even those I would choose not to of my own free will.
He did his little song and dance, and then when I asked him what he was selling, he pulled out the magazines. I wasted no time in telling him no thank you, but of course 3 kids were out on the front step, so there was no way I could shut the door in his face. He tried again. I told him no again. I felt like I was polite.
Next thing I know, he was up in my face, saying, "Why you gotta do me like that?"
Say what? By saying no to magazines, I am waging a personal war against him? I am personally hoping and in fact encouraging him to fail?
But of course, he didn't stop there. "I'm just trying to feed my kids," he said. I agreed that was a worthy goal (and you all know I would have loaded him down with food and clothes if he had said he was in need) , but if he can't take no for an answer, he should consider changing careers. Then, he got ugly. And tried to guilt trip me some more. I don't really enjoy that. In fact, I hate being guilt tripped. So I replied,
"Don't think for one second that you get to knock on my door, try to sell me things I don't want and don't need, then try and give me a guilt trip to get your way. I didn't invite you here and it is my right to refuse your products, without this kind of manipulation. I'm not buying your magazines, and I'm not putting up with your attitude. You can remove yourself from my property right now. " He stood there, ready to let expletives fly. Before he could take a full breath, I said, "Move it. NOW."
Once he started walking, and all of my kids were back inside, I started to shut the door. As it swung closed, I heard him yell, "Thanks for not helping!"
He's welcome. He's so very welcome.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Friday, December 7, 2007
We Believe?
A risk of online shopping is the risk of marked packages arriving at the door. Online toy companies are notorious for shipping that one really great item, complete with its own box and a giant color picture of the item on it, completely ruining the look of shock on Christmas morning. Because of this, for several years, I have limited my online ordering to amazon only. They ship theirs in big boxes with "Amazon" printed all over it, but nothing else.
Until this year.
This year, they didn't ship everything from their warehouse, but a few things came directly from vendors. Of course, those vendors stamp their names all over them, so it is no secret that I ordered a game or two. Unfortunately, it was supposed to be a secret. Until Christmas morning, ifyaknowwhatimean.
So today, another box showed up.
Dave: "What is it?"
Me: "Oh, you know, Christmas presents with the entire contents of the box printed on the outside so that everyone knows what I got them."
Nate: "Are those the presents you hide and then pretend are from Santa? Because you know I don't believe in him."
Until this year.
This year, they didn't ship everything from their warehouse, but a few things came directly from vendors. Of course, those vendors stamp their names all over them, so it is no secret that I ordered a game or two. Unfortunately, it was supposed to be a secret. Until Christmas morning, ifyaknowwhatimean.
So today, another box showed up.
Dave: "What is it?"
Me: "Oh, you know, Christmas presents with the entire contents of the box printed on the outside so that everyone knows what I got them."
Nate: "Are those the presents you hide and then pretend are from Santa? Because you know I don't believe in him."
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Cover me, I'm Going In
I'm here in Utah. It's 10:30 pm, and I have made a discovery. It turns out that for various reasons, it is impossible for me to boycott WalMart for all of December.
This is of no importance, but if I never come out, I wanted to be sure there was a record of when I went in.
In case I am arrested for anything while there, please tell the officers I was NICE to people on my last visit. After all, I helped the handicapped lady. . .
This is of no importance, but if I never come out, I wanted to be sure there was a record of when I went in.
In case I am arrested for anything while there, please tell the officers I was NICE to people on my last visit. After all, I helped the handicapped lady. . .
Just in Case
A conversation while packing for our trip:
Mom: Ellie, grab your ID and drop it in your backpack, just in case you need it.
Ellie: What will I need it for?
Mom: Probably nothing, but grab it just in case
Ellie: Will I need it to get on the plane?
Mom: Well, no. But, lots of places ask for ID, so pack it just in case.
Ellie: Will I need it to get off the plane?
Mom: No, Sweetie. Can you please just put it in your bag?
Ellie: Well, are there other places we're going where I might need it?
Mom: OK, I have answered the same question several times now. Again, I do not think you will need it, but you might, so please get it in your bag and stop asking me why.
Ellie wanders off to get her ID, I sigh in relief.
An hour later, at the gas station near our house:
Ellie: Mom! I don't know where I put my ID
Mom: That's OK sweetie, you really won't need it.
Ellie: But if I won't need it, why did you make me pack it?
Mom: (proud of myself for not reaching across the seat and strangling her) Ellie, do you know what "Just in Case" means?
Ellie: Who's Justin Case and what does he have to do with my ID?
Mom: Ellie, grab your ID and drop it in your backpack, just in case you need it.
Ellie: What will I need it for?
Mom: Probably nothing, but grab it just in case
Ellie: Will I need it to get on the plane?
Mom: Well, no. But, lots of places ask for ID, so pack it just in case.
Ellie: Will I need it to get off the plane?
Mom: No, Sweetie. Can you please just put it in your bag?
Ellie: Well, are there other places we're going where I might need it?
Mom: OK, I have answered the same question several times now. Again, I do not think you will need it, but you might, so please get it in your bag and stop asking me why.
Ellie wanders off to get her ID, I sigh in relief.
An hour later, at the gas station near our house:
Ellie: Mom! I don't know where I put my ID
Mom: That's OK sweetie, you really won't need it.
Ellie: But if I won't need it, why did you make me pack it?
Mom: (proud of myself for not reaching across the seat and strangling her) Ellie, do you know what "Just in Case" means?
Ellie: Who's Justin Case and what does he have to do with my ID?
Monday, December 3, 2007
I Fear!
Several years ago, after a particularly stupid stunt that I can only claim insanity as a defense against, a friend asked me if I am afraid of anything.
Finally, after much thought and contemplation (and a little feeling of being left out since fear is so en vogue now). I have finally found my fear:
Cold or cold things- Frigophobia.
Cold: extreme, ice or frost- Cryophobia.
Cold- Cheimaphobia, Cheimatophobia, Psychrophobia or Psychropophobia.
I don't know which one is most accurate, but I packed my own blanket to go to Utah. I have wool socks, thermal socks, thermal shirts (yes, more than one), thermal pants (and no, I did not sneak those out of the lady's cart at Wal Mart, although I was tempted to), a coat, mittens- 3 pair, hand warmers, and a cap which I will never wear, but have it just in case.
Finally, a paranoia to call my own. Yay!
Finally, after much thought and contemplation (and a little feeling of being left out since fear is so en vogue now). I have finally found my fear:
Cold or cold things- Frigophobia.
Cold: extreme, ice or frost- Cryophobia.
Cold- Cheimaphobia, Cheimatophobia, Psychrophobia or Psychropophobia.
I don't know which one is most accurate, but I packed my own blanket to go to Utah. I have wool socks, thermal socks, thermal shirts (yes, more than one), thermal pants (and no, I did not sneak those out of the lady's cart at Wal Mart, although I was tempted to), a coat, mittens- 3 pair, hand warmers, and a cap which I will never wear, but have it just in case.
Finally, a paranoia to call my own. Yay!
Saturday, December 1, 2007
It must have been the cinnamon rolls
. . .which went to my head and caused the sugar high which influenced me to make 2 separate and yet equally insane decisions to go shopping today. First, I went to WalMart. Entering through the garden center because it was closest to our parking, I mistakenly thought, "This doesn't seem so bad." What was I thinking?!?!? It's the first Saturday of December! Of course WalMart is a disaster.
Aside: The only reason I needed to go to WalMart at 1pm on a Saturday in December is to get a few items for Ellie and I to take to Utah. Things like thick down parkas, wool hats, gloves and socks. . . all the important stuff.
We navigated to the one rack which held winter clothes and I immediately started digging through the boxes and boxes of Thermal underwear. Oh wait. I'm lying. There was one box, which was mighty slim pickens, and another lady already had her claws on size large thermal bottoms. Turns out it was the last one. And she was clearly a size medium. Clearly. Not only that, but I am nowhere close to the XL's that Ellie kept insisting I should buy anyway.
At this point, I decided those new caffeinated mints were looking pretty appealing, in an entire can sort of way. So, we attempted to navigate towards the candy aisle and food section. After 10 mints, I was feeling a little better about sticking out the shopping trip. Until, of course, we got trapped in the oatmeal aisle. Comical really, in a watching grass grow kind of way. I was pulling oatmeal off the shelf when a little old lady speed racer blocked me in with her motorized cart. I turned to go the other way, annoyed at the liberties the handicapped will take, only to find a 6'8" lumberjack staring at the cheerios. And of course, with 19 choices in Cheerios now, it was one tough decision. I refrained from putting one of each in his cart and asking him to make his decision at check out, but only because I figured this was the day I would end up in line behind him.
And we stood there.
Eventually, Speed Racer managed to do a 95 point turn in her cart, and I only had to lift the front wheel once to unstick her from the freezer door which someone had opened just as she was backing up, and we were FREE! Only to be stuck again at the end of the aisle by a compelling debate between father and son as to whether Frosted Cheerios could be considered healthy or not. Quite in my element, I walked them through the nutrition guide on the plain vs the frosted and as they reached for the multi-grain, managed to nudge their cart just enough to escape past them.
So, we headed for the pain reliever aisle and I chewed 3 aspirin, chased by 10 more mints. According to the packaging, 6 of them are equal to a cup of coffee, and I can unequivocally say, I would never survive on one cup a day. If I were a coffee drinker. I'm just saying.
After over an hour in the store and without my original list, I called WalMart quits, but only after sniffing 25 different deodorants and finally settling on the exact same one I have crumbling on my bathroom counter.
So, we spent another 20 minutes making our way to the front of the store and the 3,333 people in line ahead of us. Of course, being WalMart, every register was open, and the checkers were both friendly and competent. OK, I'm lying again. So, we went to the end of the line- somewhere back in the electronics department- where we were serenaded with one bad rendition of the Guns-n-Roses Guitar Hero song after another. And another. And another.
Eventually, as my hair turned gray and fell out in clumps, and my ears began to ring and then drip blood, the registers became visible. My eagle eye noticed check out lane 10 had a checker, but the light was off and no one was at it. To my well-trained eye, it was obvious that this checker was preparing to open her line. Quietly, I hissed to Rebi and Ellie to go look at gum and stand squarely in front of her checkstand so that as soon as her light went on, I could swoop over and take cuts in front of at least 14 people who were legitimately in line ahead of me. I believe there should be rewards for being observant.
And we stood there.
Rebi and Ellie debated the merits of Trident vs Orbit, whether or not Freedent really did stick to dentures, and how Bubblicious hoped to regain the market share swiped by Hubba Bubba and their gum-inside-a-gum flavors. Finally, the checker punched a couple of more buttons and. . . left. Dejectedly, the girls came back.
Rebi: I guess she's closed
Me: I know. Didn't you hear me whimper?
Rebi: That was you? I thought it was the baby in front of us.
And we stood there.
I ate 10 more mints and chewed 3 more aspirin. Whoever says caffeine and aspirin are a bad idea have clearly never tried it. Clearly.
At long last, the end of the conveyor belt was open and it was our privilege to place things upon it and then hand over wads of cash. My last item was starting to slide towards the register when I heard a voice talking to the man behind me. "Sir, I'm open on 10 now, if you'd like to move over"
Rebi clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the scream. Thank goodness, as the mints had kicked in and I was much louder than I anticipated. And shakier. And I was crying, just a little.
We wheeled our cart full of bags -with one item each in them- into fresh air. As we were exiting, we overhead a couple coming into the store. They were young. And naive. And she said to him (in her bright and crystal clear voice, swinging her flaxen hair) "Don't you just love WalMart?"
It was then that I crushed the mints and snorted them, because I had already decided I had no choice but to go to Costco.
P.S. Remind me to tell you about the lady spewing chunks all over the Costco bathroom. True story. Would I make this up?
Aside: The only reason I needed to go to WalMart at 1pm on a Saturday in December is to get a few items for Ellie and I to take to Utah. Things like thick down parkas, wool hats, gloves and socks. . . all the important stuff.
We navigated to the one rack which held winter clothes and I immediately started digging through the boxes and boxes of Thermal underwear. Oh wait. I'm lying. There was one box, which was mighty slim pickens, and another lady already had her claws on size large thermal bottoms. Turns out it was the last one. And she was clearly a size medium. Clearly. Not only that, but I am nowhere close to the XL's that Ellie kept insisting I should buy anyway.
At this point, I decided those new caffeinated mints were looking pretty appealing, in an entire can sort of way. So, we attempted to navigate towards the candy aisle and food section. After 10 mints, I was feeling a little better about sticking out the shopping trip. Until, of course, we got trapped in the oatmeal aisle. Comical really, in a watching grass grow kind of way. I was pulling oatmeal off the shelf when a little old lady speed racer blocked me in with her motorized cart. I turned to go the other way, annoyed at the liberties the handicapped will take, only to find a 6'8" lumberjack staring at the cheerios. And of course, with 19 choices in Cheerios now, it was one tough decision. I refrained from putting one of each in his cart and asking him to make his decision at check out, but only because I figured this was the day I would end up in line behind him.
And we stood there.
Eventually, Speed Racer managed to do a 95 point turn in her cart, and I only had to lift the front wheel once to unstick her from the freezer door which someone had opened just as she was backing up, and we were FREE! Only to be stuck again at the end of the aisle by a compelling debate between father and son as to whether Frosted Cheerios could be considered healthy or not. Quite in my element, I walked them through the nutrition guide on the plain vs the frosted and as they reached for the multi-grain, managed to nudge their cart just enough to escape past them.
So, we headed for the pain reliever aisle and I chewed 3 aspirin, chased by 10 more mints. According to the packaging, 6 of them are equal to a cup of coffee, and I can unequivocally say, I would never survive on one cup a day. If I were a coffee drinker. I'm just saying.
After over an hour in the store and without my original list, I called WalMart quits, but only after sniffing 25 different deodorants and finally settling on the exact same one I have crumbling on my bathroom counter.
So, we spent another 20 minutes making our way to the front of the store and the 3,333 people in line ahead of us. Of course, being WalMart, every register was open, and the checkers were both friendly and competent. OK, I'm lying again. So, we went to the end of the line- somewhere back in the electronics department- where we were serenaded with one bad rendition of the Guns-n-Roses Guitar Hero song after another. And another. And another.
Eventually, as my hair turned gray and fell out in clumps, and my ears began to ring and then drip blood, the registers became visible. My eagle eye noticed check out lane 10 had a checker, but the light was off and no one was at it. To my well-trained eye, it was obvious that this checker was preparing to open her line. Quietly, I hissed to Rebi and Ellie to go look at gum and stand squarely in front of her checkstand so that as soon as her light went on, I could swoop over and take cuts in front of at least 14 people who were legitimately in line ahead of me. I believe there should be rewards for being observant.
And we stood there.
Rebi and Ellie debated the merits of Trident vs Orbit, whether or not Freedent really did stick to dentures, and how Bubblicious hoped to regain the market share swiped by Hubba Bubba and their gum-inside-a-gum flavors. Finally, the checker punched a couple of more buttons and. . . left. Dejectedly, the girls came back.
Rebi: I guess she's closed
Me: I know. Didn't you hear me whimper?
Rebi: That was you? I thought it was the baby in front of us.
And we stood there.
I ate 10 more mints and chewed 3 more aspirin. Whoever says caffeine and aspirin are a bad idea have clearly never tried it. Clearly.
At long last, the end of the conveyor belt was open and it was our privilege to place things upon it and then hand over wads of cash. My last item was starting to slide towards the register when I heard a voice talking to the man behind me. "Sir, I'm open on 10 now, if you'd like to move over"
Rebi clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the scream. Thank goodness, as the mints had kicked in and I was much louder than I anticipated. And shakier. And I was crying, just a little.
We wheeled our cart full of bags -with one item each in them- into fresh air. As we were exiting, we overhead a couple coming into the store. They were young. And naive. And she said to him (in her bright and crystal clear voice, swinging her flaxen hair) "Don't you just love WalMart?"
It was then that I crushed the mints and snorted them, because I had already decided I had no choice but to go to Costco.
P.S. Remind me to tell you about the lady spewing chunks all over the Costco bathroom. True story. Would I make this up?
Primary Chrismas Party
Who is this Santa? How many pillows did he need?
He made little girls scream.
And babies sob. . .
This kid really knows how to pose (and please note that he still has a black eye).
Taylor, Jessica, Rebi
Evan and his friends, Conner and Brittany
A lovely chance shot of Kelly and Eli.
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